Chapter 25: Fin
CanaanAlphardForever: So, wow. It's finally finished. I was SO damn excited when I woke up to discover that my dear Turbo had finally completed this story XD I can't believe it's actually finished now. Like, this story started it all. Asking Turbo to write this was the best decision I've ever made. Anyway! Thank you to everyone that followed, favourited, reviewed or even just read this story. You guys are amazing. When you're done reading let Turbo know how amazing she is!
Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this fiction. A lot of things have changed since this story was written. I still, however, love writing. I enjoyed writing this story and I hope you enjoyed reading.
Eight years later…
A blond man sat alone in his cell, staring mindlessly at a wall. Above him, a young man attempted to annoy him by banging his feet on the bed incessantly. Losing his temper, the older man stood and shoved the bunk bed roughly.
"Stop it," he seethed.
The young man cowered and said nothing, huddling to himself. Feeling guilty, the blond sighed and shook his head. He moved to the bars and gripped them tightly, pressing his forehead against them. His beard poked between the bars, prompting a guard to come forward and inspect what was going on.
"Feeling down, Mr. Reiss?" a guard asked, sympathetic.
William Reiss's lips trembled slightly. "I miss my daughter."
"Isn't she that one social worker?"
"The very same."
"And she's married to the police officer, right? What was his name…"
"She's married to Ymir, who is a woman."
The officer grinned. "Well then, I think I have something for you." He produced a clipping from a newspaper article from behind his back and gave it to the man. "Check this out."
It was a photo of a blonde woman in a professional business suit being hugged from behind by a freckled female police officer. Both of them were smiling, though the blonde's smile was far wider than the officer's. Mr. Reiss smiled warmly and read the article that accompanied the photo.
'Jean Kirstein - Super duo Krista and Ymir tackle dozens of social cases involving child abuse and family issues on a weekly basis. Social worker Krista is the long-time lover of police officer Ymir, and both have been known to cooperate in relevant cases to solve them quickly and efficiently. Meeting in high school, the couple has worked hard to get where they are now, and Krista is soon considering retiring and taking up a different profession: foster care. Ymir, on the other hand, has been promoted several times for outstanding commitment to the police force, and will remain on the team for years to come. As of today, they have solved a total of one thousand and five hundred domestic abuse, child abuse and other types of cases successfully, giving them the title of highest success rate in the city since...'
"William Reiss? You have a visitor."
The man turned around and squinted at another guard. Sighing, he stood and followed the officer to the meeting hall. When he saw his visitor, he smiled wide.
"It's nice to see you again, Krista."
Reiner grinned and put his arms around Annie and Bertholdt's shoulders as they waited in the meeting room. They had finally managed to score a presentation with the CEO of a foreign and highly-acclaimed gourmet food product company. Reiner's group, RBA Inc., hoped to be able to sell the ideas Reiner had in mind - special kitchen utensils designed to make cooking easier and healthier, such as pans that did not require butter or oil to lubricate foods.
RBA Inc. had been a result of Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie's choices in career after they had graduated high school. They all followed business courses in university, however they specialized in different areas after Bert had made a suggestion that they form their own group and work on their own products. The fathers of the men had agreed, and after merging their companies, formed the RBA, which Reiner and Bertholdt inherited and then co-owned alongside Annie. Four years after forming their group, they were climbing the ranks in fine kitchenry and had gained a reputation of being hardworking, independent business associates with high standards.
Annie handled the money and accounting of their group, while Bertholdt handled the marketing and advertising sector. Reiner was their entrepreneur and the main driving force behind their group, handling the ideas and presentations and press releases. They had a PR agent once upon a time, but instead found that Reiner could manage that section on his own without too much trouble.
Today was the day Reiner would get his big break – he could feel it. If this company bought his ideas, and signed them up for a contract to produce for them, then they were definitely set for a long time. Their companies could merge and become a leader in kitchen utensils and gourmet food products, and that was exactly what Reiner hoped for.
They didn't know the CEO, but their last name brought back tingles of familiarity – Ackerman. Annie recognized the name as being her rival's old surname before she changed it after being adopted, but thought nothing of it – she had broken up with Eren before graduation when things between them turned sour at her refusal to accept Ymir. The short blonde had been heartbroken for weeks, but that did not affect her attitude, nor her drive in attaining the best career. She dropped her kickboxing to focus on her thriving business project, but she could still feel the desire to fight coursing in her veins. However, visiting her old dojo allowed memories to resurface, so she avoided her former passion at all times.
Reiner and Bertholdt were still the best of friends, though neither man thought of settling down until they could reach a financially stable environment. Though RBA Inc. was successful, they still had to put a lot of time and energy into making it above the tax deadline at the end of the fiscal year. Simply being together took a lot of work and effort, and marriage would only put a strain on their relationship.
Reiner let go of his associates and stepped to the window overlooking the city. One of the things he loved about his job was the environment – there were always beautiful things associated with business, being impressive skyscrapers, thoughtful paintings or even delicious foods; Reiner loved his job.
The room they were in was a perfect example of how classy business people were. It was a meeting room designed to comfort and relax the occupants, with deep leather swivel chairs surrounding a long table. The room overlooked the busy city from a skyscraper, and the window at the back of the room providing the view was grand and thick. At the front of the room was a simple wooden door with a metal knob, and the wall adjacent to the left housed three paintings of food equally distanced from each other.
The wall to the right of the door had a high definition flat screen television – a relatively new invention – equipped with a satellite receiver just under it. The walls were painted a creamy beige colour, and in the leftmost corner of the room at the back was a small table with snacks and a water dispenser. Reiner had helped himself several times before Annie slapped his hand away in annoyance.
"So, Reiner?" Bertholdt started, fidgeting as he took a seat on the right of the head of the table. Annie sat in front of him while Reiner sat at the head.
"Yeah?"
"When are they coming? It's been nearly two hours since–"
The doors slammed open and a tall, black-haired man with vibrant green eyes entered. Behind him were two women and another shorter man with short blond hair. The women were each a brunette and an oriental black-haired beauties.
"Sorry, sorry!" the tall man interrupted sheepishly, "traffic is a bitch, as usual." Without looking at his guests he set down a briefcase on the long table and spoke to the oriental girl. "So, shall we get started?"
At this, Reiner jumped up and approached the group, extending a hand forward to shake with the tall man. "You must be Ackerman, the CEO?"
The man smiled and frowned at the same time, a confused look on his face. "No, this is Ackerman, my boss and friend."
At that, the oriental woman stepped forward and put a hand to her hip, looking over the guests skeptically. Annie immediately knew who these people were, but kept the information to herself as she stared at Eren in shock. The lanky boy from high school had matured to an impressive giant, building muscle on top of his scrawniness and gaining an air of authority and leadership around him. Annie was surprised he wasn't CEO, but then again Mikasa was mainly the brains between them, and she turned her eyes to the oriental woman with well-hidden respect and resentment.
Mikasa had also matured greatly, and Sasha as well, however their personalities remained the same – the first thing Sasha did when she greeted them was dash to the snack table and stuff her face with food. Mikasa was as stoic as ever, however, there was a difference in her eyes, a subtle glint that told Annie more than she wanted to know – Mikasa was happier than her.
This made Annie think deeply: she gave away her shot at happiness because she was stubborn over a grudge she held. She had read the newspapers – Ymir and Krista were successful and were happy together. If Ymir could get on with her life, why couldn't she? Why did she have to stay trapped in an endless spiral, when the man she still had feelings for was right in front of her?
Annie saw that Eren was still clueless about their identities, but she knew that Mikasa and Armin knew. Slightly hurt that Eren seemed to have forgotten about her, Annie approached Reiner and crossed her arms.
"It's nice to meet all of you," she said stoically, "this is Reiner, the entrepreneur behind the ideas, and that is Bertholdt our marketing agent. My name is Annie, and I handle all the financial aspects as the accountant of RBA Inc."
"RBA…" Eren repeated slowly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "RBA! That stands for your names!"
Annie's eye twitched and Mikasa put a hand to her face in exasperation. "Eren, take a seat please. That is my adoptive brother and co-chef, Eren, while the woman sampling the snacks is the other co-chef, Sasha. This is my personal advisor, Armin, and my name is Mikasa."
"What about Ackerman?" Reiner asked curiously.
"Ackerman is the company name and used in formal discussion. I'm surprised you don't recognize us by now, Reiner."
"Recognize? Oh my god, no way! I can't believe it! It's really you guys!" Reiner exclaimed in shock, "you've all changed so much! And Armin, damn you got tall!"
Armin laughed and smiled politely. "I suppose I have gotten a bit taller," he agreed modestly.
Eren scratched his head, but when he turned to look at Annie, he knew. He looked as though he was punched in his gut – he seemed breathless. His eyes were wide and his mouth formed silent words.
"Annie?" he whispered. That was all he could say as he approached the girl – now woman – who had been on his mind since their horrible break-up in high school. He never forgot about her, but he had tried hard to, and now he felt guilty for not knowing her when he saw her.
Annie nodded once, her face expressionless and blank, and it made Eren laugh. "You haven't changed much," he chuckled, smiling wide, "and that relieves me."
Bertholdt simply smiled from the sidelines and stood to greet everyone. "Hello, it's nice to see you all again."
"Still as tall as ever, Bert!" Eren laughed. "This is great, honestly! Meeting up with old friends is always a treat. So how has life been? Your company is pretty impressive you know."
"Our company?" Reiner joked, "yours is a mega corporation. How did you manage this in just eight years?"
"My family had a line in other countries," Mikasa explained, "I inherited it after I turned eighteen. It was a restaurant chain that I transformed into a gourmet food distributor with Eren and Sasha's help."
"Sasha? Where is she?" Reiner asked.
"I'm right here!" a muffled voice answered. Sasha popped up next to Mikasa with a huge grin. In each of her hands was a food of some sort, and this made Reiner laugh.
"Wow, nothing's really changed, huh?"
"Except for us," Eren said quietly to Annie. His breath caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand, and she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "We need to talk."
"Sure."
"So, let's get this meeting started!" Reiner suggested.
Several hours after the meeting ended, the representatives from the companies shared anecdotes and laughs as they celebrated their success. The agreement was made: the companies would merge and take RBA as another category in their kitchenry line. Finally, Reiner's dream had come true, and so had Bertholdt and Annie's as well. After eight years of hard work, they would finally be in the big business.
"Let's watch some television! I heard the championship basketball game between Trost and Shiganshina is on now!" Eren exclaimed, turning on the television right away. Reiner cheered and agreed, setting up a swivel chair in front of the flat screen with his own snacks. Armin sat between Eren and Reiner while Bertholdt took his spot beside his best friend.
Reiner laughed boisterously at something Armin said until Bert slapped the back of his head and frowned at him. The blond man sighed and ducked his head. Eren was too busy struggling with the television to pay any attention, while Annie shook her head at her friends and Mikasa and Sasha simply fed each other.
"Got it!" Eren exclaimed happily. He had finally managed to locate the sports' network and the championship match was currently on. It was the last minute, and the score was tied. This last shot would win the match for sure.
"I can't believe we missed the whole thing," Reiner grumbled.
"Oh well, at least we'll know who won!" Eren cheered.
"True."
"And there he goes!" the sports announcer shouted excitedly, "number twenty is bouncing off the court here, folks! He's got the ball in his hands, the future of Trost, and he dunks it! Unbelievable, folks, Connie Springer, captain of the–"
"What did he just say?"
"Connie Springer, Connie Springer from Rose?"
"That's him! Look, he has the Rose emblem on his headband! Holy crap, it's actually Connie!"
Eren pumped his fist up and cheered. "All right Connie!"
Cheerleaders and benched players filled the court as all celebrated the success of their team. The Shiganshina team hung their heads in disappointment but clapped for their opponent anyway, a sign of good sportsmanship.
"Great job, Connie!" Jean congratulated as he ran down from the bleachers. Marco was right by his side, a blond boy in his arms.
"Yeah!" Marco agreed, "that was a really good hustle out there!"
Connie shrugged and laughed awkwardly, watching his teammates celebrate. He had been the centre of the attention for a few minutes, but had managed to get away when the attention was shifted to other prominent players. The man smiled for any pictures and Jean quickly began jotting down notes in a notebook he carried. Marco noticed and smiled; he set down the boy and held his hand.
"Already writing your article, Jean?" Marco joked.
Jean jumped and turned to his lover with a grin. "As chief editor of The Rose, my job is to write all the time!" He looked down and his grin widened. Crouching, he messed up the boy's hair. "Hey kiddo! How'd you like the match?"
The plump, blond boy with turquoise eyes smiled shyly and hid against Marco's leg. "I liked it a lot," he answered, "and I'm really happy for Uncle Connie!"
"Atta boy!" Jean exclaimed, standing back up and grabbing the boy's sides. "You're one of a kind, Evan!" The journalist threw the boy up in the air and placed him on his shoulders.
Marco laughed and grabbed Jean's free hand, intertwining their fingers. In between, they had matching gold bands. "It sucks we couldn't watch it with you, since you had to cover it play by play up front, but we had a great time. You'll have plenty of time to write the article later, Jean, so just enjoy the event for now."
Jean grinned and allowed Marco to stash his writing utensils in his back pocket. "Alright. I'll take you guys to where Connie is being hounded by the press."
He led his family through the throng of celebrating spectators and waved at fellow journalists. When he finally reached Connie, the basketball star had been in the middle of an interview with a reporter, camera up close and personal. Jean raised an eyebrow when Connie laughed and shook his head, face red, then dismissed further questions. He seemed to be shuffling his hand around in his pocket.
"Connie!" Jean shouted. Above him, Evan waved and grinned brightly. Connie, the runt of Rose, had grown several inches taller since graduation. Though not as tall as his old friend Bert, Connie towered over most with his lanky disposition.
The man reached over and played with Evan, both laughing and grinning. Marco smiled warmly and pressed close to Jean's side.
"Connie!" Another voice, this time female, came out as well. Connie turned, Evan in his arms, to greet a dark-skinned woman smiling brightly. He set the boy down, who then ran off to his parents, and hugged the woman tightly, twirling her around.
"Natasha," Connie laughed, "I'm so happy to see you!"
Natasha, a foreign exchange student performing research at the university Connie had graduated from – where they had both met, one summer morning during the basketball player's early practice sessions when he played ball for college – pulled back from his embrace to meet his lips in passionate fervour.
Connie responded in kind, and many cheers and wolf whistles encouraged them to pull away in embarrassment, blushing heavily but still happy. Connie kept his girl in his arms as she leaned her forehead against his and sighed against his lips. "Congratulations!" she told him, arms around his neck.
Suddenly, Connie paled and set her down on her feet. Natasha tilted her head in concern and reached out to touch the man's arm when he started to pace. Genuinely concerned, the woman looked over at her boyfriend's best friends and pointed at Connie, to which they both shrugged and made hand gestures. All around, the crowd watched as the top player of the game lost his cool.
"Natasha." Connie stopped pacing and stood rigidly in front her. The woman in question felt her heart leap out of her chest when the love of her life bent down on one knee and fished in his pockets. She put a hand to her mouth in joy, shock and wonder as he pulled a box and opened it. Inside lay a beautiful, diamond ring – the envy of many women.
"Connie, I–"
"I finally did it," Connie chuckled, "I finally did what I've wanted to do since Ymir destroyed my confidence in junior high. I proved her wrong, I won the basketball championship with the help of my team, and I've shown her that I'm the best at what I do. And I never could've done that without you." Connie stood and approached the quivering woman, gently touching her cheek. He cupped her jaw and put the ring on her finger, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead.
"You've been here to support me for years, ever since I accidentally missed the hoop and knocked down all of your research papers from your hands. From that day onward, you were my drive and my passion, and you've helped me complete a goal I've been trying to achieve for a long, long time. I love you, I love everything about you, and now that I've won this, now that I know I can support us and your career for many years to come, I want us to take the next step. Will you take it with me? Will you marry me, Natasha?"
Natasha, stunned, could only nod as Connie grinned and slipped the ring onto her finger. When he heard laughter behind him, he turned to see Jean laughing and pointing.
"Her other finger, dumbass," he chortled. Marco covered Evan's ears and glared at Jean, who scratched the back of his head in apology. Connie blushed and sheepishly removed the ring and placed it on the right finger, to which Natasha giggled and murmured something about Connie being adorable before pulling him in for a kiss.
As the crowd cheered and celebrated another beautiful occasion, Connie pulled back from his fiancée and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how Ymir and Krista were doing. Before he could pursue that thought, Evan tugged on his wrist with a smile and directed his attention to his parents. Jean and Marco had taken Natasha away from Connie, and the basketball player laughed as he picked Evan up and chased after them.
"Thank you Ymir, for making me try my hardest and never giving up."
A car pulled up near a house that looked nearly ready to collapse. The car was sleek and new, though the occupants were modestly dressed and somewhat nervous. A porch provided the first impression of the home, which appeared weary from use, and a rocking chair rested against the corner. Everything appeared used and old, and the neighbourhood was much the same.
"It's time we finally do this. Are you ready, Ymir?"
"I'm ready, squirt."
Krista pouted and pinched Ymir's thigh. "Stop calling me squirt. I'm almost twenty-five!"
Ymir grinned cheekily and wiggled her eyebrows. "Oh, I wasn't referring to your age or height. I was referring to what you did last night when we–"
"Ymir!" Now sufficiently embarrassed, Krista stepped out of the car, her face steaming red.
Ymir cackled and exited the car as well. She made sure to lock it before climbing up the steps beside her wife. The blonde refused to look at her lover. She crossed her arms and kept her pout on her face. Ymir flicked her forehead and turned the doorknob, pushing the creaky door inside the home.
Krista sputtered and pulled on Ymir's arm. "Ymir? You can't just barge into someone's–"
"It can't be."
Both women turned to see another, older woman staring at them in shock. She had brown hair that had begun fading into the greys of the elderly, and navy blue eyes weary with wisdom. Those eyes were currently wide open in shock.
"You…" the woman stumbled forth, dropping her cane as she held onto the wall for support. Ymir quickly rushed forward and gripped the old woman's shoulders to steady her. The woman gripped Ymir's forearms in return.
"It's you, Ymir," the woman murmured, tears falling from her eyes. Ymir looked down at her with a gentle smile on her face, something Krista had only seen a few times.
"Hey, Mom," Ymir whispered, closing her eyes and kissing Kirsten Freud's forehead, "I'm back."
"It's been so long," Kirsten sniffed, collapsing against her former foster daughter's chest, "you've been gone for so, so long. And you're so tall now!"
"I know. And I have a lot to tell you and Dad. Say, where is he?"
"Niklas is in bed," Kirsten paused, then pulled away, "you should go see him."
Something in her eyes, in her stance told Ymir that there was something wrong. Niklas was in trouble.
"Kirsten," Ymir asked firmly, "what happened to him?"
Kirsten avoided the tall woman's gaze and instead met Krista's blue eyes. "Oh! You brought a friend! How are you, dear? What's your name?"
Krista approached both women and clasped one of Kirsten's hand in both of hers. "My name is Krista, and I'm Ymir's wife, but with all due respect ma'am, I think you should answer Ymir's question. She gets grumpy very easily."
Kirsten seemed shocked at first when she heard the mention of wife, but then her expression melted to warmth and she sighed. Her face seemed to sag even more with that sigh, becoming sadder with the news of her husband.
"Niklas has been diagnosed with lung cancer," Kirsten finally answered, "and he only has a few more months to live."
Ymir felt the ground beneath her fall freely as the news sunk in. Why, why now? Why did this have to happen when she finally grew the courage to visit her parents? Why did this have to happen to her?
"Ymir?" Krista gently placed her hand on her lover's cheek and thumbed her freckles. "Honey, please, don't shut us out. Let's go see Niklas."
Ymir felt herself being pulled out of the darkness as soon as she felt herself slip into it. She looked down at Krista and nodded, keeping an arm around her mother and her other hand tightly in Krista's grasp. With both women on her arms, the brunette walked down familiar halls and up nostalgic stairs as she finally reached her parents' old bedroom. It was daytime, therefore all the kids were at school and no one was around to disturb them.
"So, Krista, how did you and Ymir meet?" Kirsten asked, her voice a pleasant warmth reminding Ymir of nights spent in front of the fireplace, surrounded by other children and listening to Niklas' wild stories.
Krista simply smiled and leaned her head against Ymir's shoulder. "I think Ymir would be better off explaining everything to both you and Niklas all at once. It's a very long story."
Once they entered the bedroom, Ymir approached the bed and set her mother down on it, beside her husband. Niklas had a bunch of machines hooked up to his body, and his breathing was regulated with a thin tube passing through his nose. He looked miserable, and so unlike the man that had raised Ymir.
Instead of lively, green eyes that would've widened considerably upon seeing her, his dull, forest orbs stared right through her, seeing but noticing her presence. His blond hair was completely shaved off due to the harsh treatment cancer patients often suffered, and his face had so many wrinkles it was hard to believe he was only fifty-seven years old.
Seeing him so defenseless and vulnerable nearly brought Ymir to tears, but instead she went to his other side, Krista right beside her. Ymir would never voice it aloud, but she was secretly grateful for the blonde's support.
Ymir sat beside the man, who turned his head feebly to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed lightly in confusion.
"Dear," Kirsten started, "do you know who this is?" She held her husband's hand and squeezed it tightly, relieved when he squeezed back.
"N…" Niklas coughed, and sat up to wipe the phlegm with a tissue. His wife sat up beside him and cleaned his mouth. Ymir's heart tightened, and Krista's eyes teared.
"No."
Ymir pressed her lips together and stared directly into Niklas' eyes. "Ymir. Does that name ring a bell?" Ymir spoke harshly, watching as his eyes remained dull.
"No."
"The girl who you kept calling a smartass. The girl who always skipped school and played hooky with the street kids. The girl who always stole bread from the market to help the family. The girl who ran away with her friends when she couldn't stand the lifestyle her parents had been forced into because of her."
Niklas' eyes slowly widened as memories rushed back to him. So strong were these memories that he shakily lifted one hand to touch Ymir's cheek. "Ymir? Is that you?" he gasped.
Ymir placed a hand over her father's and grinned. "It's great to be back, Dad."
Niklas' eyes filled with tears, and soon he was crying alongside his wife and Krista. "Ymir! Ymir, you're alive, you're finally back!" he sobbed, "I thought you were gone forever."
Ymir felt guilt rise but quickly pushed it down once the blonde next to her intertwined their fingers. "I'm alright, Dad, and I have a lot to tell you and Mom. But first, I want you to meet someone," Ymir turned her head toward Krista and smiled that same gentle that made Krista's heart skip a few beats. Once everyone had settled and dried their tears, Ymir decided to continue.
"This is Krista, my wife," Ymir paused, looking deep into Krista's eyes. All of their memories, their hardships, their struggles… Krista had been through everything with Ymir, and though the scars of her past could never fully heal, the blonde made things so much easier by being there for her, loving her, supporting her. They were an interdependent couple that assuaged each other's fears and insecurities through the undying commitment they promised each other. And Ymir had to thank Krista's persistence and stubbornness not unlike her own.
"And the most important person in my life."
Krista blushed and smiled, bumping the brunette's forehead lightly. She turned to look at Niklas, who tilted his head in both amazement and curiosity. Suddenly, his expression lightened and he laughed lightly.
"You know," Niklas coughed, grinning, "I always knew you wouldn't like boys, Ymir."
Ymir barked out a laugh and squeezed her father's hand. "Damn straight." She puffed up proudly and pulled Krista to her chest. "This little blonde's mine."
"It's very nice to meet you, Krista," Niklas wheezed. Despite his difficulty in speaking, Krista could feel the warmth in his tone. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then kissed Kirsten's forehead as well.
"It's so very nice to meet the both of you. I'm so very happy to finally meet the important people in Ymir's life," Krista returned kindly, ever polite. Ymir beamed in pride when her parents clearly accepted their relationship and Krista as their daughter-in-law.
"Now, Ymir," Niklas coughed, "I'd like for you to tell us why you didn't invite us to your wedding."
Ymir blushed. "We didn't have a wedding. We just got married – we couldn't afford a wedding, so we had a party with friends and signed a bunch of papers."
At this, Kirsten frowned and reached over her husband to smack Ymir's thigh. "Ymir! Shame on you – you should've given her a wedding!"
Krista giggled and rubbed her thumb along Ymir's wrist. "It's never too late," she coyly suggested.
Ymir gave her a dry look and rolled her eyes. "No," she said blandly, "we are not doing a wedding when we've already been married for four years."
Krista pouted. "Okay."
"Four years!" Niklas exclaimed, "Ymir, you must tell us what happened after you ran away, and how you met Krista. Please, put my poor heart to rest before I move on."
Ymir sighed and sat back against the headboard, scooting beside her father and placing Krista on her lap. Kirsten nuzzled against her frail husband as she patiently waited for Ymir to speak.
"It's a long story, but here goes."
And thus, Ymir spent hours upon hours explaining everything to Kristen and Niklas. She explained her feelings and sentiments at the time of her running away, as well as the bonds she'd forged with Berik and his crew. She spoke of all her troubles and her sadness and her anger. She spoke of her loss of trust and her wariness regarding other people. Her whole childhood was finally told to the people who had once upon a time taken care of her. Kirsten cried a few times, and Niklas' expression remained grim until finally Ymir spoke of her meeting with Krista.
Her expression visibly brightened, and her tone became soft. Krista leaned against Ymir's chest and felt her steady heartbeat accelerate whenever she mentioned how they grew closer. The brunette's arms tightened around her lover, and Krista could not help but hum the song they had danced to so long ago, on that memorable field trip that seemed to have happened only yesterday.
By the end of the tale, Niklas and Kirsten had finally understood why it took so long for Ymir to contact them. She had been afraid, and guilty and absolutely horrified of the prospect of seeing the two people who had been absolutely devastated at her loss. Ymir did not want to confront these feelings of shame without feeling secure in her position.
"You've gone through so much," Kirsten sighed, "and we weren't there to help. We always sent letters, but I'm afraid they never got to you. It was hopeless, sending letters out to a man who was in no way obligated to give them to you."
Ymir kept quiet, not wanting to divulge the fact that she did receive the letters – they were now stored in a little box, yellow from age and wrinkled from the amount of time she read them to fall asleep. Krista nudged her with her elbow and sighed.
"Did you…" Niklas paused, taking a deep breath, "did you ever get to meet your real parents?"
Ymir narrowed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the back of Krista's head. The blonde rubbed Ymir's arms in support.
"No. My mother died in a car accident, and my father killed himself in despair. This was just before I had started high school, but no one cared to tell me until I graduated."
Kirsten gasped, her eyes softening. "I'm so sorry, dear. I wish you could've met them at least once."
"I don't really care either way." Ymir shrugged and left it at that. Sensing the awkwardness, Krista got out of Ymir's grip and smiled brightly.
"I think we need some refreshments!" she suggested.
Kirsten got up, supporting herself with her cane. "I'll go make some tea," she said, smiling in the way only an old person could, filling the occupants' hearts with warmth.
Krista immediately stood and held the old woman's hand, winking at Ymir. "I'll help you," the blonde offered.
"Thank you, dear."
"It's my pleasure."
Krista shut the door behind her and allowed the father and daughter with much-needed privacy. Niklas glanced at Ymir with pride, so happy with who she had become and how she turned out.
"What do you do now?" Niklas asked, amazement in his voice
"I'm a police officer," Ymir answered proudly, "and one of the best, too. Krista's a social worker, and together, we solve all sorts of cases. We're the best team in town."
Niklas looked down at his blanket and smiled softly. "I always knew you'd do great things, but when you ran away, I'd lost all my hope," he admitted, "I was like a walking corpse for weeks, making sure the other children were well-behaved and loved. It was draining, but then I accepted it and moved on. It was the most painful decision of my life, but incredibly important.
"When I saw you there at the door, I knew who you were, but I didn't want to believe it. In my mind, Ymir was dead. But here you are, alive, happy and healthy, and I couldn't be happier."
"You're dying," Ymir pointed out bluntly.
"And the only thing I'll regret is not being able to see your children in the future."
"Heh, then I'll just have to make it happen sooner." Ymir smirked when Niklas sputtered, then both father and daughter laughed.
"I've missed you, Ymir."
"I missed you too, Dad."
Krista set the kettle to boil on the stove and sat down on the chair near the kitchen table. She watched Kirsten move slowly around the kitchen, opening up cupboards to locate the necessary herbs. When she had found them, she set them down on the table and sat down as well, sighing in relief. Krista smiled brightly when she heard laughter from upstairs and giggled along with her mother-in-law.
"So, Krista," Kirsten started, "how has Ymir been with you? Good, I hope?"
Krista blushed lightly and traced the pattern on the table. "She's wonderful," Krista paused, "but she's a handful at times. She has the worst temper and she's always teasing me. She's a jerk, but she's my jerk."
Kirsten chuckled reached a hand out to clasp Krista's. "I'm so happy she's found someone to love. And someone who sees her faults is incredibly valuable. Please, take good care of Ymir. She's had so many hardships I can't even imagine her being alone with all of it."
"Don't worry, I'll do my best."
"And if she ever gives you too much trouble, I know for a fact that she's not very fond of the silent treatment. She'll go crazy if you ignore her for too long."
Krista gasped, and despite herself, laughed. "Really? I never knew that."
"It's true!"
They sat and shared stories, and the longer Kirsten spoke with Krista, the more she could feel the lost years fade into the back of her mind. She got to know the Ymir who had changed after leaving, as well as the woman who held her heart. Krista also learned more about the young antics of her lover, as well as a side she never knew existed. Soon, they lapsed into silence.
The quiet was comfortable between them, but Krista could see that Kirsten was stumbling for words. "Kirsten, did you want to ask me something?" Krista inquired gently.
The old woman jumped and put a finger to her lips. "Oh, uh, yes, it's more of a request, actually."
"Yes?"
"I…" Kirsten struggled, but pressed on, "I need to take a break from the caring business. I've grown far too old to keep up with the children, and my husband needs me. I need successors."
Krista jolted in shock, and looked down in nervousness. How was she supposed to answer that when her career was going so well already? Could she give up her job for something like this?
"I understand if you don't want to, but it's the children I'm worried for. If they can't stay here, they'll be sent to different homes across the region, and I know how much they love it here."
Krista bit her lip, already knowing her answer. She looked up and met Kirsten's hopeful eyes with determination. "Kirsten, I want you to know that I have a big heart, and that I would never turn my back on anyone in need. My entire career has been based off of helping people better themselves and saving them from dangerous situations. All I ask is that you let me focus on gathering enough money to support this home, and I'll gladly take the mantle from you." Krista squeezed the hand in her own gently. "You've been working hard all your life; let me and Ymir do the rest, and you can finally relax peacefully beside your husband."
Kirsten cried then, and she would recount every word Krista told her to her husband when Ymir and Krista left later that day. Kirsten would have Krista's words imprinted into her memory, memorizing them as though they were the most important words she had heard in her whole life. On her deathbed, with Ymir's hands firmly clasped in her own, she would beg Ymir to take good care of her lover, and to treasure her deeply.
Ymir would agree with Krista in taking care of the foster home, but reminded her that many difficulties lay ahead for that decision. Krista had simply smiled, thinking that if she had Ymir, then nothing was impossible. It all started with curiosity and a burning desire to know, and now it was all about growing and experiencing what life had to offer.
Krista leaned over the middle of the front in their car to give Ymir a loving kiss that left them both breathless. She pulled back, brushing her lips delicately over Ymir's, and smiled warmly.
"Well, I guess it's time for another adventure."